


Envious

by Blue_Blurr



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: More than Meets the Eye
Genre: Comedy, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand & Finger Kink, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Scissoring, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, You could probably sue for medical or scientific malpractice, bloodplay maybe?, death mention, scientific misadventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Blurr/pseuds/Blue_Blurr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tasked with analyzing a compound one of the crew members somehow inhaled, Perceptor and Brainstorm work alone together in the lab. Well, not exactly. Perceptor is the only one working, Brainstorm is feeling up a microscope on his lab table, and Perceptor is not at all distracted. He is very focused on his work, so focused he doesn't notice how Brainstorm's skillful hands seek out every nook and cranny of the microscope. Nope, didn't see anything. And since he didn't see anything, he's certainly not jealous of Brainstorm's microscope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Envious

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the Transformers. Heck, if you want to be technical, until my student loans are paid off I don't even own the clothes I'm wearing.
> 
> I posted this very early in the morning, so please feel free to tell me if there are any errors, I will go back and fix them when I am more conscious.

     Brainstorm’s hand crept slowly up the microscope’s body tube before hesitantly stopping to let one digit circle the delicate glass of its lens, eliciting the smallest of shivers from Perceptor. Brainstorm torturously continued, letting his other hand drift down to the course adjustment knob, gently squeezing and turning it with carefully calculated strength; enough to send sharp flares of arousal straight down one’s frame, but not so much that it’d cause pain. Still fondling the knob, Brainstorm focused his attention to the slide clips, gradually pulling upwards until they could go no further and then releasing them with a snap. Trying desperately to stifle a moan, Perceptor bit his lip much harder than he had intended. The electrifying taste of energon flooded his mouth, but he had no time to do anything about it.

     Brainstorm’s hands -his _sinfully_ skilled hands- were on the move again, pawing at the edge of the microscope’s stage, pressing and tracing along its edges and teasing mercilessly at the edge of its diaphragm. Past experiences had taught Perceptor just how sensitive his diaphragm could be, and he found himself almost unable to hold back a groan as gifted fingers expertly plundered the area. Perceptor was mortified by how much he wanted to give into the temptation to cry out, but held fast and determined not to make a sound. He bit down harder, feeling energon begin to sluggishly drip down his chin.

     But those hands were on a mission, and both they and their owner were nowhere near done yet. In unison, Brainstorm’s hands smoothed their way upwards, lazily tracing incomprehensible patterns along the way and coming to a rest by the fine adjustment knob. Anticipation surged through Perceptor as he heard the distinctive click of a retracting battle mask. A ghost of heated breath spread across the glass lens at the same time one hand begin to tweak the fine adjustment knob, bringing Perceptor’s cooling fans roaring to life and activating the commands to open his interface panel.

     No, no, no. Perceptor had let this go on way too far, this was entirely inappropriate; he couldn’t do this in the lab. Not when there was such crucial work to be done.

     “B-Brainstorm,” he panted, “Brainstorm, stop!” And stop he did, throwing both hands up, dropping his mask, and taking a step back for good measure. The now neglected miniature microscope sat innocently on the lab table before him, its red finish -so eerily close to Perceptor’s own- glinting in the harsh, artificial lighting.

     “Percy, what’s wrong? Are you bleeding?” Brainstorm questioned, concern written clearly across his features.

     “You know exactly what is wrong,”

     “No, really, I don’t Percy-”

     “It is one thing to do it as a joke when we are alone and have no real work to get done, but Tailgate is in the medbay as we speak, waiting for us to analyze whatever it is that made its way into his vents.” Perceptor raged, frustration coloring his faceplates.

     “Tailgate’s going to be fine. Probably,” Brainstorm paused, “although, there is a slight chance we made the wrong guess earlier and the tests we’re running on the compound will be moot because whatever Tailgate inhaled is actually a rare or previously undiscovered specie of super parasite and he’ll offline in a few hours. But that’s a very small probability.”

     “It is approximately 0.003498 percent likely, and even if the odds are extremely unlikely that Tailgate has contracted a “super parasite” as you called it, the possibility still remains that Tailgate is currently dying and instead of working on a way to counteract it, you’re standing there, groping an obsolete, miniaturized version of my alt mode and distracting the both of us from our possibly life-saving work!” Brainstorm’s optics brightened as Perceptor’s faceplates flushed with embarrassment.

     Only the faint humming of the lab machines could be heard as the two scientists stared at each other; one extremely satisfied with his actions and the other wishing he was the one with the knowledge to create a time machine so that he could go back in time and knock himself out before he could say what he just admitted.

     “My dear Perceptor, are you jealous of Magnify?” Brainstorm practically purred.

     “Magnify?”

     “Your double over here,” Brainstorm gestured to the microscope from before, “She’s named Magnify. It’s engraved on her base.”

     “I most certainly am not jealous of an inanimate object,” Perceptor protested.

     Brainstorm started at a slow pace towards him; for every step he went forward, Perceptor took one step backwards, until he bumped into a counter. Brainstorm advanced, pinning Perceptor against the counter with his weight and lifting his hands to cup the microscope’s faceplates. Almost automatically, Perceptor’s hands went to Brainstorm’s hips, fingers seeking out gaps between armor plating and frantically teasing at the wires beneath them. The most sensual moan left Brainstorm’s uncovered mouth.

     “Oh, but I think you are. You’re reacting so strongly, Percy.”

     “That would be because this is a life-or-death situation, Brainstorm.” It wasn’t clear who moved first, as the two seemed to move in unison.

     Brainstorm’s tongue lapped away the energon dripping down Perceptor’s chin before kissing him hard. His kiss was returned with fervor as hands stole up his arms to massage at his sensitive wing joints. Pleasure coursed through his frame as he gasped into the kiss, allowing Perceptor’s tongue to plunge into his mouth. Without breaking contact, Brainstorm’s hands delved down to Perceptor’s aft, groping even as he lifted Perceptor onto the counter.

     Systems heating and fans coming to life, they continued; touching, tracing, twisting, toying, until they both were panting desperately. Brainstorm’s hands sought out every inch of the microscope’s frame; a demanding primal urge wanted to claim it, mark it as his, leave traces of his paint behind. And Perceptor was just as eager to do the same. But just as a hand dipped downwards to rub at Perceptor’s interface panel, a machine in the lab sounded off.

     “Oh, t-that would be Tailgate’s results,” Perceptor huffed. A frustrated groan answered him.

     “Can’t it wait?” A fond sigh left Perceptor’s lips. He gently cupped his lover’s face.

     “I am afraid it can’t, my dear Brainstorm. Potentially lifesaving research, remember?” They gently kissed before breaking apart, Perceptor going directly to the machine in question, and Brainstorm following, albeit glaring at the machine and whispering something that most assuredly was not complementary in its nature.

     “And the result is?” Prompted Brainstorm as Perceptor poured over the summary analysis.

     “It would appear that Tailgate inhaled what is essentially a powdered version of nitrous oxide,” Perceptor answered, his optics brightening.

     “Shouldn’t that not work on non-organics?” Brainstorm asked, incredulous.

     “I would have thought so, but it just happens that this powder is activated by only one thing: energon.”

     “So when Tailgate inhaled it, the powder made its way into his energon lines, activated, and that’s why he’s been laughing his aft off since he got back,” -Brainstorm got a nod in agreement- “so does our cock-blocking friend have anything more to say about it?”

     “Tailgate will be just fine. His systems should burn through the substance in a matter of hours, however-”

     “Cyclonus wanted a cure for it yesterday, I remember Velocity saying that. Let me see the results and I’ll go whip something up.” A rather devious smile lit Perceptor’s face.

     “What if we worked on it together?”

     “I think I’d like that.”

~*~

     A loud knocking tore Velocity’s attention away from Tailgate, who was still laughing, though thankfully less violent now than he had been before. Cyclonus held one of the minibot’s hands, his claws completely covering it. He glared at the door, signaling Velocity to go do something about it. The glares had become ineffective at this point; she was currently the only medic, and therefore could only do so much. Cyclonus needed to accept that. She’d also add that Tailgate was fine, aside from the laughter, and even then, he wasn’t in danger. His faceplates and possibly his vocalizer might ache for a bit when it finally stopped, but there were medicines she could give him to cure that instantly.  
Pressing a button on the wall, the door opened to admit Brainstorm and Perceptor, who looked…odd. Brainstorm’s face mask sat at an angle, obscuring most of his face but at the same time revealing more of it than Velocity had ever seen. Perceptor was more concerning; his cooling fans were making an awful racket, signifying that his systems had been running hot for some time now and were fast on their way to becoming overtaxed.

     “Are you two alright?” She asked cautiously, mentally chalking up a list of afflictions that could be plaguing the scientists. Maybe they had contaminated themselves with whatever Tailgate had inhaled?

     “Never better, actually!” Brainstorm said hurriedly, his voice sounding off.

     “Are you sure?” Doubt was clear in her tone.

     “They said they are fine. Now, I trust you have analyzed the sample?” Cyclonus’ voice drifted from the back of the medbay.

     “Yes we have. Tailgate will be fine, with no harm to his systems unless he strained himself with all the laughing. The compound has the same effects on Cybertronians that laughing gas has in organics. It will naturally wear off in a few hours, but Brainstorm,” -Cyclonus caught his optic- “with my supervision, created an elixir that should safely accelerate that.” Producing the elixir from his subspace, Brainstorm handed it off to Velocity and as one he and Perceptor headed for the door.

     “Guys, wait! Don’t you want to see how well it works?” Velocity called after them.

     “Can’t sorry; Rodimus wants something. Gotta go!”

     “Yes, we must be leaving. Get well soon, Tailgate!” Bid Perceptor.

     “Yes, speedy recovery!” And with that, they left the medbay, practically racing down the halls. Until Brainstorm’s confident steps suddenly faltered.

     “Wait, Percy. Yours, mine, or ours?” The jet asked cheekily.

     “By ours you mean the lab?”

     “You betcha.”

     “It would be…unprofessional to interface in the lab.”

     “But _very_ kinky.” Perceptor paused.

     “To the lab, then!”

~*~

     The sight before him was the most beautiful Brainstorm had ever seen; the bright red microscope all laid out on a lab table, fans roaring, faceplates flushing, and transfluid already seeping past his interface panel. Knowing this was all his doing sent a tremor through his frame, his spike now pressing almost painfully against his own panel.

     “Let me show you what I’ve wanted to do with those hands all day,” the microscope rasped. Guiding one hand to his mouth, Perceptor flicked out his tongue, slowly inching his way up and down each digit, paying extra attention to the knuckles. He parted from the hand reluctantly, a trail of fluid still connecting his mouth and one of the digits. Bringing Brainstorm’s other hand to his lips, Perceptor kissed each knuckle lightly. Feeling his charge building, Brainstorm tried futilely not to squirm. But when he felt Perceptor’s lips completely envelope his fingers, suckling away, tongue teasing at his knuckles, he couldn’t help himself. Arching against his lover, Brainstorm overloaded with a deep moan, glistening transfluid gushing from behind his stubbornly closed panel.

     Coming down from his climax, Brainstorm felt guilty.

     “I’m sorry Percy, didn’t mean for things to end so quickly.” He sheepishly looked away, as if suddenly intrigued by an interesting poster on the wall. Hands grasped either side of his face and dragged him downwards, more on top of his lover.

     “Who said we’re done yet?” Perceptor purred, kissing Brainstorm hard.

     Retracting his panel with a click, Brainstorm felt himself begin to re-pressurize as Perceptor’s touch drifted lower. He reached out a digit and traced the edge of the glass on Perceptor’s eyepiece, drawing forth a delicious groan from the warm frame beneath him. The microscope’s hands moved unpredictably, from wing joints to sensitive cables, then downwards again, tantalizingly stroking Brainstorm’s spike and dipping between the moist folds of his valve, not seeming to mind how much transfluid they became coated in, even coming back to his mouth at one point, so Perceptor could lick them clean.

     Brainstorm’s skilled hands expertly plundered the microscope’s own frame as he delighted in every single sound he managed to get from his Perceptor. With the slightest turn of Perceptor’s course adjustment knob, he was rewarded with the click of Perceptor’s interface panel pulling back, revealing the gorgeous, plush lips of his valve and a pressurized, leaking spike begging for attention. Perceptor greedily sucked Brainstorm’s fingers again, slicking them with fluid in the hope that his lover would get the hint.  
Moaning wantonly, Brainstorm toyed a bit with the valve’s outer node and slipped one finger into Perceptor’s valve, slowly circling it around and stretching him before looking him in the optic. A nonverbal nod and stroke of his spike encouraged him to go on. A second finger eased in beside the first, circling around gently. Perceptor ground his hips forward, pushing the fingers deeper into the wet warmth. Quickening in pace, Brainstorm’s fingers scissored, opening Perceptor’s valve wide enough to admit one more finger. Losing patience fast, Perceptor slammed his hips down onto Brainstorm’s fingers, impaling himself on them as much as possible.

     “Brainstorm,” Perceptor huffed, “n-now please.”

     “And if I s-say no?” Brainstorm pushed.

     “Then you can finish the night with Magnify,” hissed Perceptor. With a chuckle of laughter, Brainstorm removed his fingers, marveling at the wetness of Perceptor’s valve for a moment before lining his spike up with the valve entrance. Brainstorm pushed in, carefully watching his partner’s face for any sign of discomfort, but finding none. Sinking himself deep into moist heat, until his spike was buried to the hilt. They moved together, Perceptor’s tight valve clenching desperately around Brainstorm’s eager, weeping spike. The soft mesh walls of Perceptor’s valve rippled against his spike, building a charge in both of them.

     As Perceptor pushed harder against him, Brainstorm cautiously reached out, firmly grasped his fine adjustment knob, and turned. They overloaded simultaneously, their optics going white as they cried out.

  
~*~

     They laid curled up together almost peacefully; it was hard to fit two people on a lab table. Red with transfers of blue-green safely pressed against blue-green with transfers of red. Though he didn’t want to ruin this moment for the world, Brainstorm had to speak up.

     “Percy?”

     “Yes?”

     “As kinky as doing it in the lab was, I think we should go somewhere with a bed next time.”

     “Agreed; I believe my right foot is currently resting in a sink. Plus this table is not exactly forgiving on one’s spinal struts.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to apologize to my high school biology teacher for forgetting the anatomy of a microscope. I'd like to extend that apology and say I'm sorry for relearning the anatomy of a microscope so I could write gay robot alien porn. You probably hadn't expected that to have happened. Although, now that I think about it, you did ask me to stay after class once and I thought something awful had happened and worked myself into a panic, only to find out you wanted to show me pictures of sculptures made from human toenail clippings because you thought for whatever reason, that I'd find it neat. So you may have expected something like this to happen. 
> 
> To my readers, I am now on tumblr under the name "shut-up-blurr" if you want to see what I do when not writing fics.


End file.
